


supercut

by nanakomatsus



Category: NU'EST, Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Fluff, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Alternating, Slice of Life, more indie but ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 01:47:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16965381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanakomatsus/pseuds/nanakomatsus
Summary: next time you look back, maybe you should really look again.alternatively, PLAN UNTITLED





	supercut

**Author's Note:**

> hello we have come to the end. thank you for the memories. and look, there's a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/1292354670/playlist/0nQkimIaVInEcpTxD0yCM8?si=S-IertUeSdqo8acQ2bGeVA).

 

 

 

_In my head I do everything right_

 

 

 

The truck is yellow.

It’s yellow and it’s blinding against the grey looming around him; the grey reflected against the dozens of skyscrapers towering up above, doing nothing to shelter him from the downpour. Boy, it’s a downpour. Perfect, he thinks. Suits the mood.

Minhyun stands for a good few minutes, frozen in his own time, watching listlessly as the workers in navy overalls carry a light-wood brown chair, followed by a white billy bookcase, followed by boxes and boxes of other things that technically aren’t his but they are, because they’re in his apartment, always have been and now they won’t be.

He blinks himself out of his reverie, finally registering the chilling drops of ice-cold rain pelting him, running down his neck (it isn’t enough to wash away everything that’s gone wrong, will never be). Like some god up there is telling him to wake up, wake up it’s over, you gotta go now-

He shakes his head, feels a rather belated shiver run down his back as he pockets his hands deep in his burgundy coat and marches against the current of the stream of moving men carrying little bits of his life away with their rough hands, shoving them into that awful, awful yellow truck.

The stairs are dirty and wet with boot stains but he ignores it, ignores the twitch of his hands because they’re ruining the floor, ruining everything. There’s a dull orange glow coming from the landing just up ahead and he catches a whiff of home, now tainted by foreign cologne and sweat.

He lets himself in, and immediately feels like he’s walked into a stranger’s home and not his own. The living room is practically a barren wasteland with only the soddy old couch and the television and his wall of books to the left and the rug and the dining table they bought at Ikea like four years ago, oh he still remembers- The rug is missing the strange little artworks and bobbleheads and trinkets are all missing and the mess is missing. For once, it’s clean and empty.

He walks around for a bit, hates how hollow the place sounds now. No one would notice. He does. And that’s what matters. It’s going to fuck up the acoustics now and he’ll need to fill the place up again to make it sound like it used to (but will it ever?) He weaves his way through, dodging the workers and checking everything and finding more and more things out of place and missing.

It’s the recently-vacant room bothers him the most.

He doesn’t dare take a step in. It’s been cleaned up nicely, he’s thankful. There’s paint peeling off at some corners and stains from the years-old cellophane tape now gone. There’s still the rickety coffee table at the corner. And the deep brown bed frame. And the coffee-stained worktable that takes up practically half the space.

He lingers outside the room for a long time, swaying and letting it all sink in.

Then, a few minutes later, ah there he is, Minhyun thinks, hears familiar easy-going footsteps bounding up the stairs, not a single thought weighing them down. He decides to head to the kitchen area, and busies himself with a glass of water, jumping up on the counter top and settling himself down on it. He turns the glass between his palms, feeling the warmth of his drink settle in, doing absolutely nothing to calm his nerves.

He listens for about a minute as rushed footsteps search the other rooms before he finally hears them making their way towards him.

Seongwoo rounds the corner, eyes wide, looking slightly disheveled with his messy hair and dark circles accentuating his almost gaunt appearance. He visibly deflates upon finding Minhyun.

His body wilts against the doorframe as he goes to picking at the wood, avoiding eye contact.

“What time did you get back?” His voice comes out small, like a child who’d just been scolded by his mother. He lets out a small tsk, and sharply pulls his hand away. Minhyun catches a flash of red on his thumb before he brings it up to his mouth, chewing on the wound. Doesn’t seem to help. Just makes it worse (like everything else, Minhyun thinks bitterly).

“Just got here,” Minhyun replies nonchalantly, looking away, taking a sip of his water.

“You could’ve called,” the other says, more to himself. The taller shrugs from his perch atop the countertop, head thrown back, eyes up to the ceiling. There’s a little crack up there. Should get it patched up.

“My battery’s out,” he says flatly. Seongwoo nods with his whole body, swaying on the balls of his feet. He opens his mouth to say something before-

“We gotta disassemble the bed frame. Won’t fit through the door,” comes a gruff voice. The worker, a short, pot-bellied middle-aged man, fixes them with a slightly annoyed look. Seongwoo blinks.

“Ah what? Yeah. Sure. Go for it,” he stammers out, with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. He sees the elder off before returning a quick moment later.

“I have a couple Colas. We can go out to the balcony and-” Talk. Ha. He trails off, not really knowing how to continue.

“It’s raining,” Minhyun states a little colder than he intended.

Seongwoo seems to have just realised this because his eyes are widening and his ears are going red.

“Oh, yeah. We could just- it’s okay-” He starts in a rush.

Minhyun gives a half-hearted shrug and swings his legs, hopping off the counter and dumping the mug into the sink. He walks past him, grabs the two red bottles and heads towards the living room.

“’S fine,” he says coolly, sliding the glass doors open.

A burst of cold air greets them. The rain is now a light drizzle. The terrace is glistening, reflecting more greys. The plants are dead, Minhyun notes, and makes a mental reminder to get some fertiliser or some new ones but, scratch that, those are going to die too. It’s not like he’ll be home for the next few weeks to take care of them.

  
He takes his place against the railings, setting the other bottle on the concrete barrier before opening his own and taking a swig, drinking in the view along with his Cola.

Seoul is nice. Always is. But autumn doesn’t do it so well on this side of the river. There aren’t many parks around this area so instead of golden and brown blooming it’s grey with accents of a murky green. The view of the Hangang is okay from here. Nothing special. It’s lights from the bridges that make it look better than it is in the night, at least. In the daytime? Not so much.

“How was Busan?” Comes Seongwoo’s voice. Minhyun hears him slide the door close behind him, blocking off the noise of the moving furniture inside and now it’s just them and the buzz of the traffic below and the pit-a-pat of the rain.

“It was alright. Brought Sujin her oatmeal face mask thing she’s been asking for,” he replies with a shrug. Seongwoo hums.

“Didn’t you send her the recipe for that?”

“You know how she is.”

And he feels Seongwoo’s warmth as the other settles against the railings beside him. Minhyun hands him his drink and he accepts it with a small thanks. The cap comes off with a satisfying pop and falls to the floor with a hollow tinkle.

Seongwoo takes a long swig.

Minhyun watches him, watches the thinnest strands of his hair float up as another breeze washes over them, memorizes the lines of his profile like it’s the first time, draws it over and over again in his mind, tracing the curves of his lips and throat with an invisible pen.

“So…” He starts. Minhyun waits for him to continue.

He waits a long time.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So,” Minhyun’s voice rings out behind him, cutting straight through the chilly spring air. The sun’s not even up, but the school’s aglow with pre-ceremony lights.

Seongwoo keeps his gaze on the thin, yelow line of the horizon burning across the deep purple sky, beyond the hills surrounding them. Minhyun takes his place beside him (where’s he’s always been, where he always will be), leaning against the railings.

A cold sensation mildly jolts him out of his daze. A can of sparkling grape is pressed against his forearm. He turns to Minhyun, eyes slightly wide, is this for me?

The taller scoffs. “No, it’s for Minki, wait, let me throw it down to him from here,” he deadpans. Seongwoo rolls his eyes and gingerly accepts the drink.

“Carbonated drinks are terrible first thing in the morning,” he quips, taking a sip. “’Thought you knew better, Mister Hwang Top Three In the School Minhyun.”

Minhyun hums. Then, “I thought you weren’t scared, Mister Ong I Can’t Wait to Fucking Leave This Place Seongwoo.”

Seongwoo chuckles, shaking his head, feels his stomach bubbling. A few moments pass in comfortable silence before Seongwoo finally speaks up.

“I don’t know where to go from here,” he says softly. It almost gets lost in the wind but Minhyun catches it anyway, knows exactly what he was going to say.

“How about getting to the end of today first?” He replies after a beat, leaning back with his hands gripping the railing, relishing the cool air.

“Then, maybe after that, how about entrance exams? And then you can come back to me again and we can talk about it,” he continues coolly, as if it were as simple as that (it probably is, Seongwoo thinks, it should be easy like that).

“What about you? What’s next for my Ice Prince?” He turns around, leaning back against the metal, feels it digging in his spine as he looks up to the sky, now turning magenta, not quite light, but the sun’s definitely coming.

Minhyun smiles at the stupid nickname and ‘my’ and shrugs, giddy already.

“I was thinking Japan. But who knows. Maybe I’ll just stay and go later,” he answers nonchalantly.

“You that eager to leave me, Hwang?” Seongwoo raises an eyebrow, pouting, looking stupid. Minhyun wants to kiss his stupid face. So, he does and feels the other smiling into it and pinches him, earning a yelp.

“Shut up.”

Pause. The sky turns red.

“I’m scared, Min. I really am.” His voice is barely a whisper now as his thoughts sprint and crash across his mind. The grape fizz is threatening to come up.

“Just for today, Seongwoo. Stop worrying so much. It’s not a good look on you,” Minhyun says, sighing but he’s not annoyed or anything no, Seongwoo just stop overthinking, he adds.

“At least for me,” he adds earnestly. Seongwoo lets out a heavy breath.

“Yessir.”

“Seongwoo-”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll try.”

Then, “What’s Daniel going to do without us?” Seongwoo says with a sigh. Minhyun laughs, airy and giggly and butterflies in his stomach and sparkly, I’m in love, Seongwoo thinks, a smile curving into his own lips.

“He’ll be fine. Jae’s there to keep him out of too much trouble.”

Seongwoo frowns, uh yeah, sure. Minhyun shoots him a disapproving look before a knowing smile creeps up.

The sky is orange and blinding. The sun peaks through the dark waves of the rolling hills. Its hues hit the both of them right on. Seongwoo turns his gaze away and finds himself staring at the taller instead. The yellow reflects on his eyes, shining like molten gold and he’s glowing, the curves of his cheeks and lips and neck outlined with yellow and he’s beautiful, like a painting and Seongwoo wants time to stop, stop right here, right then-

“And what about us?” The question comes out without him thinking and he almost regrets it when Minhyun’s expression falters.

“What do you mean?” He asks cautiously. Seongwoo fixes him with a serious gaze.

“I mean,” he takes a step closer.

“What is going to happen to this? This you and ??”

Minhyun doesn’t hesitate. Seongwoo’s heart grows ten times its size.

“We’ll be the same. We’ll be like we always have been, us. Okay?”

Seongwoo nods, okay, nods again and smiles and smiles and smiles.

“Cools.”

Minhyun scoffs and they’re getting closer and it’s like one of those movies and it’s perfect, the sun’s right the light’s good if only there were a camera-

There is a blinding flash and the sound of shutters.

“’Cools’? What the fuck even, Ong?” Minki’s face is contorted in exaggerated disgust as he lowers the DSLR, letting it hang around his neck. Beside him, Daniel is laughing his guts out. Not a second later, Jaehwan joins them, screaming.

“The roof’s a forbidden area! I’m telling on you guys!” He hollers. Minki rounds on him, roaring ferociuosly.

“Shut the fuck up! Shut! Up!” He screeches. Their ex-main vocal, sticks his tongue out, standing his ground at the entrance to the stairwell.

“You’re all going to be late-” he begins.

“And so are you-” Minki hisses.

“We’re all going to be late so hurry it up will you? Disgusting,” he says, yapping away to himself before turning away and heading back down. Daniel shrugs.

“He’s not wrong,” he says a little too cheerily and bounds off behind the traitor. Minki rolls his eyes and storms after them.

“We’re going to count you absent if you don’t get your asses down now,” he barks over his shoulder and disappears.

Minhyun and Seongwoo stand frozen, uncomprehending, before bursting into voracious laughter, clutching at their stomachs, lightheaded and all.

“So?” Minhyun says, when they’ve calmed down, after a little peck on the lips. Seongwoo shrugs, nodding towards the stairwell.

“Let’s go,” he replies, grinning.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He should really change his ringtone.

It's not a good thing for the head to wake up to Mirotic after what was supposed to be a two minute nap but ended up becoming three hours. Ends up sounding like a cult chant. Minhyun lets out groan into his pillow, head buzzing as he gropes the bed for his phone.

He manages to locate it after a few long moments of rolling around and stretching across for it. Thankfully, their manager has learned quickly to stay on the line for longer than any normal person would before giving up.

"Hyung," Minhyun greets, trying to clear the sleep from his voice (without much success because his manager just sighs before getting on with the conversation without much greeting).

"I tried calling Seongwoo, but he's not answering," he explains.

"Ah, he's been in the studio since yesterday. Was just getting ready to head over to check on him. I'll let him know whatever it is," Minhyun clarifies with his Official Responsible Mom Voice, pulling on his socks as he sits at the edge of the bad.The man at the other end of the line hums.

"Well then you can also pass it on to the others-"

"Yeah?"

"Pack up for Paris."

He shoots to his feet, heart in his throat, one sock on. Did he hear that right?

"What."

"Meeting later at dinner. Don't be late. Boss is going to be there," he continues gruffly but it's hard to hide the amusement in his own voice. Minhyun opens and closes his mouth, trying to think of an appropriate response but doesn't get to, because the line's clicked off.

"Paris," he repeats to himself, uncomprehending.

Did he hear that right?

 

 

 

Dongho's not at the front desk when he arrives, panting, hands on his knees. He'd run the entire twelve blocks here, relying on adrenaline, can't stand waiting for the train lest he explode on public transportation out of excitement. Was probably a bad idea, he thinks now that he's stood half-dead outside their makeshift recording studio.

Dongho had been reluctant at first but after a lot of coaxing on Minhyun's part, had given in to nostalgia. He still threatens them on the daily, for old times' sake. They know he doesn't mean it. Still, he kicks Minki's ass everytime their drummer complains about the rental.

Minhyun takes a breather, leaning against the counter before jogging down the hallway to the furthest room down where their 'studio' is holed up behind a large STAFF ONLY sign on the door.

The spare key is where it always is, its familiar bump under the ugly blue welcome mat Jaehwan had gotten at some dump a few blocks away. He'd just thrown it down onto the floor one day and it had stayed there ever since, despite the frequent requests to get rid of it.

Inside, the lights are off except for the glow of blue and red from the equipment here and there. A steady stream of yellow weaves through the screensaver on one of the desktops. The aircond's on full blast.

Minhyun has half a mind to chew Seongwoo out, you're going to get sick, idiot, when he finds him lying flat on the couch wedged at the corner of the room, completely out, with his arms crossed across his steadily rising chest and his notebook resting on his face. The acoustic guitar lays on the carpeted floor beside him - a gift from Dongho's dad to congratulate their most frequent customers when they'd first gotten their record deal.

The need to nag dies down in his throat as it morphs into something warm that goes straight down to his stomach before sitting there comfortably.

Slowly, he makes his way over and peels the notebook off his bandmate's face. His eyes strain to read the few lines of chicken scratch lyrics that had been scribbled on.

Somewhere along the way  
I met you  
And it just fell into place  
I've got the feeling too

He chuckles to himself inwardly. Ong Seongwoo you spent all night here, only to come up with four horsecrap lines? Unforgiveable-

He slams the notebook down onto the keyboardist's face. Seongwoo lets out a yelp of pain, eyes flying open as he shoots up, shouting incoherently.

"You can take everything! Just not-" he says in a panic, arms up as if someone were pointing a gun at him. Minhyun stands before him, eyebrow quirked.

"You would let them take everything?" He questions suspiciously. Seongwoo groans and lets himself fall back onto the cushions.

"It's not like I have any money to give them. And I wouldn't want to be the guy who got shot for trying to fight back," he mumbles into the fabric. Minhyun hums, trying his best to hide his amused smile.

"Sounds just like you."

"Gee, thanks," Seongwoo scoffs before turning to face his main vocal. Even in the dark Minhyun's face shines through, like a crystal. Seongwoo is glad it's dark enough because that stupid, goofy smile is threatening to creep on his lips. He doesn't need to be teased any more than he already has been since waking up by force.

"What's up?" He asks nonchalantly. He's not dumb and blind. He can see the disheveled appearance of his Ice Prince. Minhyun wouldn't have run here for nothing.

"Hyung tried calling you. Said you haven't been picking up."

Seongwoo's eyes go wide as he pats himself down for his phone. He spots it on the desk, scrambling to get it. Minhyun watches with a tired gaze as he hastily plugs it into the charger. The screen lights up, revealing dozens of text and missed call notifications.

"Shit, sorry," Seongwoo mutters. Minhyun speaks up again before he can tap on any of the messages.

"So he called me," he continues calmly. "To tell me. So now I'm telling you."

Seongwoo pauses and waits for him to go on. Minhyun breaks into a wide grin.

"We got Paris."

Then, Seongwoo's hollering and he's got his arms full of his favourite person and they're jumping up and down together.

"WE'RE GOING TO PARIS!" He screams, hoping the soundproofed walls work like they're supposed to, doesn't care if they do or not because it's Paris oh god they've made it like, actually made it this time-

"Meeting for dinner with Boss. I've texted the others," Minhyun says when they've both calmed down. Seongwoo paces the room, barely containing his excitement.

"Min, we've done it. We're doing it," he says in disbelief. The other just watches him with an admiring smile.

"I know," he replies softly.

Seongwoo spins round and takes him in his arms again, squeezing tight never never letting go.

"We're making it. We've made it," he says, in a barely contained whisper. He feels Minhyun smile against his shoulder as he tightens his own hold around Seongwoo, warm.

"Yes."

And they stay like that, holding each other for a while.

"Bet ya Minki's already done packing," Seongwoo half-jokes later when they're closing up shop. Minhyun scoffs.

"Wouldn't expect anything less."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Kahi-noona's chicken place is stood where it always has been; two blocks down from school right at the intersection between the main road and the road leading downtown through the housing area. It stands proudly on its own little plot of land; a cute little pastel-coloured cottage with doodles of chicks greeting them. It's popular with students and clergymen alike- mainly because most are attracted to the being that is Kahi-noona. The owner is charismatic, strong-willed and has the wisdom and experience of an 84-year-old and looks of a gorgeous mid-twenties idol (and she almost was, in her youth, but life doesn't always work out like that) despite being in her mid-thirties.

The restaurant had already been a decade old when they were in high school. It had become their hang out place after the Great Stall Battle. And now they were sat with their favourite fried chicken lady, inhaling meat and beer, stars in their eyes the world at their feet. Only this time, they are joined by a newcomer; a middle-aged man with prominent dimples atop his chubby cheeks.

"To new beginnings!" The man raises his glass, a bright smile on his features. The five younger men and shop owner don't hesitate to respond with fervour, hollering back at him.

Just hours ago, they'd been sat in a meeting room with about half a dozen staff, watching their live performances and listening to their own music. It was cold, terribly so, that Seongwoo found himself searching for Minhyun's hand under the table. Their fingers intertwined and they stayed like that throughout the entire meeting up until when it was all over in a blur and they were shaking hands with the staff members on their way out.

They emerged from the glass doors of the lobby in a daze before Jaehwan broke into a cackle.

"We're locked in!" He screeches to the sky, holding up their NDA, before pulling Daniel along with him and the both of them proceeding to dance around in circles as passersby regarded them with distaste.

Seongwoo stays atop the stairs, watching them, the magnitude of their signing just beginning to dawn on him. He lets out a sharp breath, fist tightening around their demo CD. Minhyun squeezes a hand to his shoulder, appearing at his side just as he's about to lose it. A small smile plays on his lips as they look on at the other three posing for a selfie on Minki's phone.

"We actually got it," Seongwoo murmurs to himself. Minhyun nods.

"The big break," he says in agreement. Seongwoo turns to him, a lump in his throat, eyes wide in disbelief.

"You really think so, Min?" He asks quietly. The taller merely shrugs, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"I sure hope it is."

They let it hang in the air for a while, taking it all in. It took two years and who knows what's going to happen from here? A million things sprint through Seongwoo's mind; concerts, travelling, writing songs, performing, are they really cut out for this, it was supposed to be a side thing and now they're all caught up in this whatever it's become-

"Congratulations!" Comes an unfamiliar voice behind them. A friendly-looking guy, vaguely resembling a panda appears behind them, smiling. Seongwoo recognizes him as a staff member from the meeting. Their manager, he guesses, the term ringing unfamiliar even to his own ears.

"We know a good chicken place!" Jaehwan calls out from below, waving them over with his arms around Minki and Daniel. Their manager nods in finality, and throws them a wink.

"Dinner's on the company."

 

 

 

As they bid their hyung farewell, Seongwoo feels his dinner coming up and ducks into the restaurant, running to the toilet to spill his guts out.

"Gross," Minki states with mild disgust, scrunching up his nose. Daniel hiccups beside him, leaning against a struggling Jaehwan as they watch Minhyun rub his back as he keeps his head in the toilet bowl, retching.

"This is it. This is how it's gonna be from now on; booze, chicken and good music!" Jaehwan announces, slurring towards the end as he breaks away from his heavy junior, wiggling away to stumble onto the tiled floor. He shimmies up against the wall, making himself comfortable on the cold floor. Minki clicks his tongue in distaste before joining him. Daniel bounds in, taking his spot beside the sink.

"I don't think that's how it works, Jae," Minki sighs, pushing strands of pink out of his own face. Minhyun allows a weak smile.

"Are we really ready for this?" He asks. The question bounces off the walls, suspended on the stale air uncomfortably.

"It's our best shot," Seongwoo croaks from underneath his hold. He pulls himself up and closes the lid of the bowl, taking a seat.

"What could possibly go wrong, guys?" Daniel quips with optimism, his gummy smile lighting up his babyface. Minki scoffs.

"A lot of things could go wrong, Danik," he says with a sigh. Jaehwan nods in sage agreement.

"Drugs, alcohol, the fame could get to ya," he adds solemnly. Seongwoo presses his lips together, closing his eyes and massaging his temples.

"I- I don't think- I mean you're not wrong but we literally just got back from signing. It won't go that far South," Minhyun says, placating. Jaehwan raises a finger to protest.

"Ah, you're not wrong but we'll deal with that when it comes," Seongwoo cuts him off, trying to change the topic. Minhyun sends him a glare.

"-I mean, if it comes. Let's hope it doesn't-" he begins to correct himself.

"It better not come to that, you boys hear me?" Kahi-noona's stern voice cuts through the conversation. She stands with both hands on her hips, glowering at them, a fierce expression set.

"Whatever happens after this, don't act stupid. Remember, you worked hard for this. Don't let it get away," she says with a finality none of them can really challenge.

"You hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

She lets out a sigh and waves them out, poking her chin out towards the kitchen.

"I fried those specially for you boys. Eat up," she orders, a motherly smile twitching, before stomping off to -no doubt- fry more chicken.

The five exchange looks, a brief understanding passing between them, before they each get up noisily and head out.

"I'm surprised they didn't make us change our name," Jaehwan thinks aloud.

 

 

 

They find themselves running to the station. It's ten minutes before the last train leaves.

A distant memory flickers at the back of Seongwoo's mind and it feels like deja vu. This. Running to catch a train they might miss. A wave of nostalgia washes over him. And then, as if reading his thoughts, Minhyun speaks up between breaths as they wind their way through familiar streets.

"It's like we're back in high school all over again, huh?" He asks, trying to keep his voice above the noise of the traffic surrounding them. Seongwoo grins in response.

As expected, they barely slip through as the doors slide shut. Panting, they flop down into their seats before crumpling against each other, resting their heads together.

"I can't believe it's a done deal," Seongwoo manages to breathe out, later when the train is steadily on its way. Minhyun gives a thoughtful hum.

"We'll be okay," he says reassuringly, not letting any what ifs get in the way of the good energy.

They fall silent. The train sways, lights flickering as they journey through the tunnel. Minhyun tilts his head to steal a glance at a sleeping Seongwoo. He seems happier and peaceful like this. He begins to think that maybe this was not all-

Next stop, Yeongsu Station.

Seongwoo startles awake, head snapping up before he notices Minhyun's calm gaze on him.

"What? Is there something on my face?" He asks, bumbling about, touching his cheek. Minhyun rolls his eyes.

"This is you," he says as they approach the station.

With a peck on the cheek, Seongwoo is lugging his guitar case on his shoulder and bounding off.

It's a split second decision which spurs Minhyun into taking the first leap, just as the train gives a warning ding, signalling the closing of the doors.

"Move in with me!" He calls out. Seongwoo freezes halfway down the platform, mid-step and turns to him, eyes widening. Did I hear that right? The doors slide close before he can actually say anything. The train begins to pull away.

'Think about it,' Minhyun mouths through the window, watching in amusement as the other tries to chase the coach down, dumbfounded.

He shakes his head and slides back into his seat. As he plugs his earphones in, the familiar first notes of their demo filtering in through his mind.

It'll be okay, he tells himself.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The apartment needs work and they both know it. But there's something else that needs their immediate attention right now. Something far more important than the towers of unopened moving boxes-

"'You're my destiny, I've known it from the start'? I can't believe you actually wrote this, it's god-awful-" Minhyun begins, frowning down at the chicken scratch on the piece of coffee-stained paper in his hands.

Seongwoo lets out a groan, flopping onto the only thing they'd managed to get unwrapped; an island in the form of an old battered couch. He rests his head on Minhyun's lap, settling in as the other continues to nag. He begins to pluck at the strings of the guitar resting on his stomach absentmindedly.

"-and these are the opening lines, Minki is going to make mince meat out of you," the other continues clucking. Seongwoo rolls his eyes.

"Can you do any better?" He pokes. Minhyun takes no offence to the question and instead shrugs, grabbing a pen from the coffee table at his feet.

"Play the chords," he orders, but it's Minhyun so it comes out as a polite request instead. Seongwoo grunts and begins strumming.

Daniel's lessons have been helping a bit. But Seongwoo's still a little awkward with the fingerwork. Would've been nice if they had brought the keyboard to the apartment instead of keeping it locked up in the studio, he thinks wistfully as he continues strumming.

Minhyun's humming winds their way through his thoughts, his abdomen vibrating as he works his way into a melody. Seongwoo closes his eyes and imagines the drums and the bass coming together in perfect harmony, blending as a backdrop for his smooth vocals that soar through their mostly empty living room.

Seongwoo almost whines when it stops. His torn notebook page is thrust into his face. Under his two lines of soddy lyrics is Minhyun's whole verse in neat, perfect writing.

 

_Your heart and your face_  
_I look at at it again and it's so dazzling_  
_I will hesitate and not grab your hands in the end_  
_Because I am the biggest idiot_

 

Seongwoo doesn't say anything. Because he can't. Something knots in his stomach. Suddenly, he sits up and twists his body round, presses his hand firm against the back of Minhyun's neck and pulls him close into a slow, long kiss.

"I love your big head," he says breathlessly when they break apart the first time. Minhyun rolls his eyes and pulls him in for the second.

"You and your big mouth."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Minhyun was never the one with the ideas.

That was mostly Seongwoo and Jaehwan, fighting over whoever thought it up first. No, Minhyun just added on and perfected whatever needed the little fine tuning.

So what is he doing sitting alone in this dark, extra-soundproofed, karaoke room, fingers hovering over a keyboard, twitching under the cold blasting air conditioning? Songwriting, apparently.

Okay, so he’s got the first verse down pat. It sounds great, lyrics and all, real mellow yet bass-heavy and soulful. Now what?

He lets out a groan, deflating into the chair as it creaks under his full weight. Maybe it’s time to call it a night, get to the chorus tomorrow or maybe next month or just scrap the whole thing altogether-

A soft ding pulses through his midnight creative meltdown. A notification slides onto the top right corner of the screen.

You’ve got mail! Written in bold. Hyung’s email handle. Re: Script in the subject.

He furrows his brows together. It’s none of his business- He clicks on it anyway.

 

 

 

> **From:** pandahyung@xxxxx.com  
>  **To:** onghonggong@xxxxx.com  
>  **Subject:** Re: Script
> 
> Seongwoo,  
>  Here’s the script. The director was really interested after seeing your tapes. Wants to meet on Friday. I’ll set a time. Read it over. Think about it.
> 
> **(1)Attachment**  
>  Eighteen_First_Draft.word  
>  NON-Disc Agreement. Pdf

 

 

 

He’s figured he’s read enough at this point, almost wants to delete the message, or read the script himself, it doesn’t matter.

The chorus screams through his thoughts, demanding to be written down and recorded right this instant, it’s going to be a hit, it tells him, all staccato notes and heavy acoustic fingering and all.

He shuts down the computer without saving his work and heads over to Dongho’s, the chorus following him down the street, still playing as background music in his dreams,  


 

 

“And that was it! ‘Higher’ by Science, our first guests of the day!”

They introduce themselves, as per routine. They’re good at this now, Seongwoo thinks, as he watches Minki animatedly share an anecdote about how Daniel had nearly killed him with a soccer ball in high school. Beside him, Minhyun’s smile is peaceful as he watches on as well, radiant even under the pale yellow studio lights, with puffy eyes and slightly ruffled hair.

It’s been what? Three years since their breakthrough into the mainstream? Their songs are charting, every single one of them. They’re crowd favourites at every festival. Not bad for Not Idols. Still stuck at Dongho’s, with the little box they call a studio. It’s okay, it’s worked for them all these years.

“-friends since high school? All of you?”

“And still going strong!” chirps Daniel, with his toothy, sweet, smile.

“I’m surprised no one is dead yet, honestly.” Jaehwan, probably, before they burst into laughter. Not a lie.

Seongwoo’s surprised too, that they’ve managed with each other this long. It’s a miracle. Minhyun’s laugh filters in as their shoulders bump together. He catches a glance at the corner of his eye, at the sparkling being that is Hwang Minhyun. Okay, maybe not so much a miracle. Destiny, probably would be more fitting-

“Do you guys have any new hobbies outside of music at the moment?”

There is a stale pause around the room. It only lasts for a milisecond, but it’s enough.

“Well, I play soccer on the weekends whenever I can!” Daniel, oh Daniel, saves them, bless the boy.

“I do modelling on the side. That’s pretty fun,” comes Minki, beaming with pride.

“’Tryna pick up the violin. Diversity for the creative mind, y’know?” Jaehwan tosses casually.

“Sleep,” Minhyun answers flatly, a little wry smile playing on his lips. They crack up. Then, it’s him. And he’s about to open his mouth (I work on poems, helps with the songwriting)-

“Ah, leader-nim! We have something to share with our listeners. It seems that you’re finally deciding to try something new, yes Seongwoo?”

What. His minds goes into overdrive. He blinks. It’s barely registering-

“So we here at Sukira would like to be the first to congratulate you on landing your first role in a drama! When will production start, Seongwoo-ssi? Could you share any details for our listeners?”

The tension in the room is palpable. He feels it solidify and land on him like a ton of bricks. Feels it pressing down on him, suffocating. Clenches his fist, refuses to hesitate, he answers smoothly with a short synopsis and rough air date.

He focuses his line of sight on hyung, sitting in a corner, expression hard. Minki scoffs and plays it off as a cough. Jaehwan smiles, disbelieving and shaking his head. Daniel lowers his head, picking at his nails.

And Minhyun, he feels Minhyun close up right beside him, building a wall right there and then.

He doesn’t even need to look to know these are the reactions. He ploughs on, talking about himself, into a microphone, talking to a void.

 

 

 

“So when exactly were you going to tell us?” Minki seethes, running his hand through his electric blue mane. Jaehwan and Daniel are long gone.

Out of the corner of his eye, Minhyun spots Dongho waiting on them outside, shifting on his feet. Seongwoo’s face darkens.

“When I was ready to,” he replies. Minhyunn rolls his eyes. Minki seems to blow a fuse at that.

“What the fuck does that even mean? When the fuck would you ever be ready? When the show airs? After the first season is done-”

“Shut up-”

“Fuck off, you selfish prick!”

The door slams shut. Minhyun lets his eyes flutter close. The silence is deafening. Absolutely mind-numbing. Minhyun blocks it all out, begins to retreat into the vacuum of his own mind.

Seongwoo lets out a deep sigh, rubbing his face with both hands and keeping them there, hoping the warmth from his own palms would be enough to melt him into nothing.

“I read the script.” Minhyun’s voice manages to cut through the abyss from his corner on the couch.

“It’s good,” he continues nonchalantly. Seongwoo inhales, feels his heart rate slow down.

“Min, you knew all this time-” he says into his hands, muffling his own voice, scared to even peel away.

“And what next, Seongwoo? There’s something else, isn’t there?” He laughs emptily, letting it ring around the room. Bile rises in his throat.

“It’s just for the next album. I’ll be back after that-”

He hears Minhyun get up and gather his things. The door opens and closes with a soft click.

Seongwoo’s hands fall to his side, coming away wet, just in time to see Minhyun disappear around the corner and take the first step out of his life.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“It smells different, doesn’t it?” Seongwoo says over his shoulder from the balcony.

Minhyun hums, flipping through his paperback copy of After You, barely looking up to acknowledge him.

“Different?” He repeats, seemingly neither here nor there.

“Smells like bread and Dior,” Seongwoo explains seriously. Minhyun scoffs, shaking his head. He sets the book down and rolls off the bed, getting up and squeezing beside Seongwoo on their ridiculously small hotel room balcony. He turns his nose up and inhales loudly.

“I guess that’s about right. And a little bit of undried paint wafting in from the Louvre,” he quips with a smirk. Seongwoo nudges him, with an unamused raise of an eyebrow, seriously? Yes, seriously, you started it.

“Weather’s a little down. You sure you still wanna go sightseeing. We could wait until after the show-”

But Minhyun’s already gotten into the shower.

A few minutes later, his usual honey-sweet voice is replaced by an exaggerated, obnoxiously loud rendition of-

“Anywhere with you feels like Paris in the rain!” The added voice crack towards the end makes Seongwoo actually laugh aloud. He slips off his sweater and boxers and barges in, arguing that they’d be saving time and water this way.

 

 

 

Contrary to popular belief, Paris isn’t actually that beautiful in the rain. But who is Seongwoo to say? He’s spent the last half an hour too busy with trying to keep their broken umbrella open above their heads to actually appreciate it. Maybe he isn’t artsy enough for it. Minhyun on the other hand, seems to be having the time of his life.

It’s one thing that he’s the (slightly) taller one of the two of them, it’s another when their only form of protection from the cold raindrops is barely being physically held together and he keeps moving around, jogging excitedly towards any random statue that looks like it has any semblance of important history behind it, pointing, look Seongwoo it’s in the guidebook!

He should be grateful, he thinks, that he’s not with Minki who’s probably taking a dip in the Seine right now. Jonghyun, bless his heart, save his soul, Seongwoo offers a silent prayer to whoever’s watching them from above, whose tears of laughter are really causing them an inconvenience.

Luckily, there’s a cafe coming up right around the corner. Grabbing Minhyun, they duck under a red-striped canopy. A blast of warmth greets them as the door swings open, revealing a nice, quaint little space with lots of art on the walls. Perfect. At least now they can admire the culture while having a nice hot sip of it.

 

 

 

“So where next, Lieutenant Hwang?”

“Onwards North, Cadet Ong Seongwoo.”

And so they somehow find themselves on the Pont Alexandre III. The sky is a purple-gray. The rain doesn’t seem to be letting up. Seongwoo figures they missed the sunset. He’s also a little disappointed with the Minki-less waters of the Seine.

“So, what do you think?” Minhyun turns to him expectantly, with a hopeful little smile.

“It’s-”  
And it’s like in the movies. The lights switch on at that moment, lighting up the space with a golden glow, so does the Eiffel Tower. They watch in wonder, as the monument twinkles to life, its hundred of bulbs seemingly spreading warmth for the night. Is this actually real life?

Seongwoo lets the umbrella fall to his side, his arms going slack. Minhyun turns to him, eyes wide.

Seongwoo turns to him, a small smile forming.

“’Paris in the rain’ you said,” he says. Minhyun’s smile is enough to light up the city, honestly.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

  

The sky seems to be clearing up. The Han sparkles under the muted sunlight, just barely. Minhyun downs the last of his drink.

“I’ll always be here, you know.” Seongwoo’s voice comes out quiet, barely audible. Minhyun stills, watching the reflection of a small flock of birds flying past one of the apartments across from them.

It’s a strange feeling, this. It’s nostalgia and want and need and nothing all at the same time. It’s raging waves crashing against the beach, and yet it’s also the calmest of waters lapping under a bronze-gilded bridge somewhere far away.

It’s piano and guitar lessons at the same time on their days off and lazing around, listening to the same five demos and getting nowhere. It’s their first gig at the local indie music festival, it’s signing their first contract and buying expensive food for hyung for his birthday.

Minhyun looks at Seongwoo and sees everything he’s ever wanted.

The world doesn’t work like that, he realises, as he stares at the embodiment of his sun.

It doesn’t work in the sense that maybe he was supposed to graduate university, but now he’s a day away from world tour. It doesn’t work in the sense that they’re still renting a studio that isn’t even a studio but all their million-sellers were thought up in that tiny place. It doesn’t work in the sense that maybe Minki and Jonghyun could’ve fallen apart so easily from the very beginning but chose not to. And it doesn’t work in the sense that everyone, including the both of them, thought that this would be a forever but look where they are now.

“I know,” is all he can say and it’s stale to his tongue. So he-

“I never hated you for it, by the way.”

Seongwoo pauses but doesn’t turn to him. He waits.

“I could never, Seongwoo. You know that, you bastard.” Minhyun doesn’t turn to look either, grips the railings hard.

“I’ll always love you, Min.”

The last piece of Ong Seongwoo left in his life is a sticky note on the fridge.

 

 _good luck for the tour! stay safe eat well_  
_and don’t miss me too much, big head_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You sure you don’t wanna come with us? It’s our last night here,” Minki’s expression is weary as he studies the taller. Minhyun rolls his eyes and gives a placating smile, waving them off before they can protest his departure any further.

“I need my sleep, Minki. We can’t all be the Ren side of us all the time,” he tosses over his shoulder, earning a withering glare and nasty tongue-out aimed at his back.

He feels bad about lying. But not enough to change his mind.

Japan’s always nice to come back to. It feels familiar and yet so strange. There’s always some new thing every time they visit. The quiet streets always feel like home though. Something about the little alleys like back when they used to take short cuts to school.

There’s a theater. That’s always been the one constant every time they’re here. It’s an old, dingy place showing foreign films and maybe, very rarely a few mainstream hits for the ones that want that exclusivity and to avoid the crowd. They just have to know where to find it.

Unsurprisingly, he seems to be the only one in the hall. The show hasn’t started yet so he checks his phone.

 

 **minki Mouse**  
we know where you are hwang  
No need to lie to me you shit  
I can see right through you

 **optimouse hwang**  
Come on over then

 **minki mouse**  
No thank you babe  
…  
Just take it easy  
You can crash in my room after if you want to  
Or need to

 **optimouse hwang**  
You kind soul

 **minki mouse**  
You owe me breakfast

 **optimouse hwang**  
Sure

 **minki mouse**  
I’m serious. dont think too much.

 **optimouse hwang**  
I know

 

 

 

The lights go out. There might’ve been a few other people there. But what does it matter. The show’s starting.

The Eiffel Tower appears in black and white. The opening shot.

Then, a camera lens fills the frame.

Slowly, it is lowered out of the space.

 

Ong Seongwoo’s face fills the screen, the man behind the camera, expression tender, eyes brown as ever.

Minhyun almost smiles.

As if they were looking right at him.

 

 

 

 _All the stages and the stars_  
_I turn all of it_  
_To just a supercut_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> my last author's note for this fandom. it's getting emotional.
> 
> -inspired by: la la land, midnight in paris and my hate for happy endings  
> \- this started off as a canon-compliant 500 days of summer au but i haven't been connected to the fandom for the past year too much.  
> -been wanting to do a sequel for plan b for a while so i thought this up and now we have come full circle  
> -when seongwoo was announced to be in a drama a few months ago, stan twt was going on about actor! seongwoo and singer! minhyun so i just took it upon myself to-  
> -it's not a sad ending don't cry
> 
> if you have gotten this far, this is for you. thank you for reading my stuff. thank you for putting up with my god-awful depressing stories. thank you for your support, for your love, for the joy you have brought me during my time in this fandom. thank you for giving me a reason to write about stories i love. thank you.
> 
> let's meet again in the future.


End file.
